Elgan speaks
...and her words thunder across the land

Down the tubes.

Friday, Apr. 3, 2009
8:35 p.m.
Hubby and I were at an early concert this evening. Two of our students gave half-recitals, the first one a violinist we have known since she went to pre-school with Little Princess, and a pianist. They both did admirably. The pianist had some memory lapses in the Brahms pieces she played, and Hubby and I both agreed that they were too hard for her. The teacher here makes all his students play Brahms, but very few are ever ready for it.

When we got home there was an extremely weird message on the answering machine from my mother. She had woken up from a nap totally disoriented. She recognized the furnishings around her as being hers, but she didn’t know otherwise where she was. She wanted me to call her back, but didn’t know what telephone number I should call. She sounded pitifully lost.

I called her back right away. She had fallen asleep sometime in the afternoon and slept right through supper, so I told her to head down to the nursing station (first explaining where it was) to see if she could get something to eat. I told her where she was, explained that this was her apartment she was in, that her house has been sold (she said she’d heard something to that effect), and she was being well-cared for.

She asked me again where my father was, and it pained me once more to remind her that she’s been a widow for nine years. I think these conversations are harder on me than her. Hubby thinks I handled it quite well, but my heart is eroding bit by bit every time this happens. My mother is aware that her memory is the pits. She even said that it feels like a bowl of hash. I do not want to be reduced to this when I’m old. I don’t even know if I’ll have a choice.



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